YOU CAN NOT GET UP

Hustle wasn't the problem. Scattered hustle was.

"Grab my hand. Help me up."

I said this to my fiancé, as I was lying on the ground.

He knelt down next to me. "What? No. You cannot get up."

I was so confused. But he could see something my brain hadn't registered yet.

My body had already gone into shock.

***

March 2020. I had hit fifteen years running door to door crews across four states and six offices.

Now, completely shut down.

COVID.

I was a single mom, living with a boyfriend who wasn't helping much in the finance department.

With no clue what to do for consistent income, I took a leap into podcasting. Thought about becoming the next Joe Rogan, like everyone else back then.

My first episodes were just me, telling my own stories. A narcissistic partner. Leaving the Jehovah's Witnesses. Struggling financially as a single mother. Eventually I started bringing on guests to tell stories of overcoming adversities.

I wasn't making much money doing that, so I was doing everything else at the same time, trying to figure out how to build something online.

Every week, like clockwork, I'd leave the house after ten o'clock, four nights a week, and go garbage picking and dumpster diving, flipping what I found on OfferUp and eBay. I was doing gigs on Fiverr. Renting rooms in my own home on Airbnb.

By October 2020, I had five different things going, a few thousand dollars from each. Decent money.

Exhausting on my body and my mind.

All while trying to build something real online, with absolutely no idea what I was actually doing.

Everyday, mid-day we would go outside with everyone else, trying to get out and breath some fresh air.

This particular day, my son was on a unicycle (yes, you read that right). My ex on rollerblades. Me, on foot, taking in the warm air, laughing, having a genuinely good time.

Then, out of nowhere, I was tripping and falling.

Landed on my back, completely unaware of the catastrophe that had just happened.

I had tripped on a raised piece of sidewalk. Fallen sideways into the drainage ravine along the road. Lost my balance completely.

My right leg had snapped in half.

I was in shock. Almost euphoric, somehow, even through the pain, staring at my own leg bending in a direction I had never seen.

My brain did not compute, and I actually tried to get up, ‘to walk it off’.

I will never forget that image.

My fiancé called 911. We were two blocks from home. When asked for our home address so they could get close...

My boyfriends mind when blank...he forgot our address.

He handed the 911 call to my son.

My son forgot the address too.

So they handed the phone to me. Holding my leg, I gave the dispatcher our address myself.

I was eerily calm. Collected.

Ambulance found us within minutes.

I rode to the hospital alone, leaving my son and boyfriend behind. No one was allowed in the ambulance with me.

In the ER, they had to set my leg.

Worse than childbirth. I screamed. I dropped every curse word I had. They had me on something, I don't know what, and it still hurt that badly.

I often think about the nurse whose hand I nearly crushed. I still remember staring at her nametag, Gabbi. The young man wrapping my leg afterward, watching tears run down my face, unable to do anything but tell me I had done a great job.

I stayed the night. Early the next morning, emergency surgery. Screws, two plates, bolted back together.

Two nights in that hospital, and somehow it was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. The care. The gentleness. I have never been more grateful to live in Boca Raton than I was in that building.

Then I went home.

Six months of recovery, minimum.

I couldn't clean the house. Couldn't run errands. Couldn't distract myself with the hundreds of small tasks I used to fill my days with.

I had to sit.

I was making money in five directions that October before the accident, and none of it was becoming anything real.

Hustle wasn't the problem. Scattered hustle was.

I think about how many of us are working just as hard as I was, just as many hours, just as tired, and still not building anything that compounds, because we never picked the one thing worth all that effort.

And because I had to sit, I finally built the thing I had been circling for months. The actual structure of a coaching business. I took courses I would never have made time for, and made my online business real.

I look back now and I know this. The thing that cost me the most, the most pain, the most money, the most fear, is the same thing that finally slowed me down enough to build.

***

House of Velani gives you the accountability to finally do the thing you've been circling. You don't have to break your leg to get focused, with us, we won't let you keep putting it off.

Meet the Expert:

Sabrina Victoria is the creator of Her Nation Magazine, a TEDx speaker, powerhouse entrepreneur, and founder of Her Nation Global. A bold media platform designed to elevate women in business through high-visibility features like podcasts, digital magazine covers, and transformational events. She runs a mastermind called, House of Velani, where she guides women business owners toward creating more cash flow into their business. With 20+ years in door-to-door sales and the co-creation of multiple 6- and 7-figure ventures, Sabrina leads with charisma, strategy, and an unapologetic belief in the power of community and connection. Every Wednesday she talks business, love and money in her column Unfiltered. Exclusively found here, in Her Nation Magazine.

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